


The Good Spin

by aactionjohnny



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13799091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aactionjohnny/pseuds/aactionjohnny
Summary: "It was the only thing left here that remained untouched, until now. It’s just her, left, that’s pure. He must know that..."My first multi-chapter Kite & Spinner work. Not super sure where I'm going with it, but I have a general idea. The rating will be T for now until I figure it out.





	1. Like a Swan's Neck

“Beautiful…”

For a moment she lets herself believe he’s looking at her. But he isn’t. She can feel it when he is, like it burns through her. She’s always smoldering, weak and thin as paper, when he’s around. It’s only been a week that they’ve been waiting for the weather to warm up, staying indoors by a little fire. Just talking. But he’s looking at the clear, placid lake. He’s looking at her dear swans.

“They really are…” More graceful than she could ever hope to be, and with more bite, more bravery. They’re a little more like Kite than they are like her. Long, a glowing white. The moon with a beating heart. She wants to lay her head on his chest and hear it. It must be even and warm, and she wants to make it fast like hers. “But that’s not all.” She has to make her case. It’s not worth his time if there’s no point. “They’re important to the ecosystem. They keep the pest population down.” She smiles, knowing she sounds smart. Knowing her voice is little and sweet, a bit like a mouse. She’s mousey. She wonders if he likes that.

“Yeah.” He folds his arms across that skinny, welcoming chest, and turns to face her. “I’ll do it. I’ll help you.”

Spinner exhales and her lungs feel so starved she expects steam from her lips. Her hands collect at her chest and her knees bend a little. She would wrap her arms around him--

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Kite--”

He holds up one long hand.

“Please, Spin.”

“Kite.” She melts to hear her nickname. It’s never sounded so friendly. 

 

She reminds herself it’s just infatuation. This dashing hunter, a little too old for her, blowing through her town with the same spring wind she feels upon her face. Tall, lean, his voice deep. A man. She’s just a girl, even if she looks like a woman, even if she feels wise beyond her eighteen-- almost nineteen, she says often-- years. He’s seen so much more than her. She listens to his stories later that night as they discuss funding for her project.

“I thought I was going to die,” he says, recounting his freezing journey through the mountains. “I couldn’t feel my feet, and my nose, well…” He places a fingertip on it. “You can imagine that was the first thing I was afraid might get frostbite.” He says such mean things about himself, even if he’s beautiful.

“I--”  _ I like your nose.  _ It might feel soft against her cheek. He might like the smell of her. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too.”

He’s been sleeping across the room, the attic loft in which she lives alone. Her friend comes by sometimes. Banana, with her pleasant laugh and smile. Kite likes her, but he doesn’t _ like  _ her. Spinner has to believe that. That his little smiles and jests are for her alone, because she’s young, because she’s pretty, because there’s some part of him that could want her as much.

But tonight they’re alone, making their separate thatch beds with her threadbare blankets.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Spin.” He’s always so kind. She knows he grew up with less of a bed than this.

“It’s no problem. I’m sorry it’s so…” She shrugs. She has no money. No parents to make a nice home.

“Spin, I used to live in a sewer.” He looks up from his duffel bag, grinning like it can’t hurt, his history and his destitution. “Besides this...this city is much nicer than where I grew up anyway.”

She likes to think it’s because she’s here. But that’s selfish. He’s seen places far more beautiful.

He’s all the way across the room, but she can feel him. Kite says that means she has potential to be a hunter. That sixth sense, that awareness. He says he doesn’t mask his presence because he trusts her. He says it’s because he needs to keep his guard up. He says it’s a wonder she’s lived here so long and been so safe. He can protect her. She wishes it wasn’t just his...what had he said in that soft baritone?  _ En _ . She wishes he could sleep with an arm around her, keeping her safe. He doesn’t even snore. He’s so perfect. She sweats in her sleep and wakes up tossing and turning with an ache between her legs that feels so heavy. Is it because he’s in her dreams? She shudders to think that she might say his name. That she might blabber some i _ ntelligible  _ nonsense that he hears.

When she wakes up he’s boiling water for coffee. She’s started drinking it black, like him. They take it on the little run-down balcony of her loft, upon its creaking wood. He looks so messy in the morning, but ethereal still. His hat left on his bed, his nightclothes so loose. He looks so skinny under there. She wears her hair up, a loose tank top, shorts that she hopes he notices. She feels kind of whoreish, even if it’s what she’s always worn. Even if she’s always subtly slipped her bra off at night when no one is looking.

He’s looking. She swears it. His eyes are so kind to her. Who could look away? This virginal young woman, all pink and new? She knows he trails the shape of her. Knows it’s a chilly morning, and it shows. She hates herself for loving that.

Because he won’t do a thing. He won’t touch her, he’s too good. Even when she makes it so, so obvious, he doesn’t say a word. But he has to know. He has to see the way her face flushes, the way she giggles when he jokes, the way she stares with her mouth hanging open just-so, bubblegum idle on her teeth.

She lets her hair down, red curls falling softly onto her shoulders. She swears he grips his coffee cup a little harder.

“What’s the plan today, Kite?” She takes a sip.

“We should get started cleaning up the lake.”

It was the only thing left here that remained untouched, until now. It’s just her, left, that’s pure. He must know that.

“Thank you, Kite.”

“You’ve gotta stop saying that,” he tells her, leaning his head in her direction, smiling that way he always does. Humble and sweet. She sighs. “When we’re done...I was thinking of asking you something.” He turns his face back out to the still-rising sun. He glows all over like the hillside.

“Hm?” Her toes curl. Her ears feel hot, but numbed somehow.

“I’m thinking of forming a little research group. It would be a good experience for you.” He takes a slow sip while she’s floundering, flustering. “Banana, too. If she wants to. We can travel. You can...you can leave this place knowing your swans are safe.”

She must be silent for too long, because soon he’s placing a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently.

“Sorry--” She composes herself, placing her coffee cup safely on the flat railing of the balcony. “I was just...I’ve never left here.”

“Maybe it’s time. You said you wanted to be a hunter, right?”

“Yes.” Would she look so regal as him? Would she carry herself with that well-earned pride? She’d keep her flannel hat forever, in his honor. For the man who made her. She swears up and down to him she'd always worn it, and she has. She's been her old world for so long, no one can tell her to wear a hat. But still, can't her world get a little bigger? Can't she make six-feet-three-inches of room...

“Consider it, Spin. I won’t bug you.” He sighs, stretching his long, long legs. Like a swan’s neck. She wants to bury herself in his pure, white feathers and languid limbs.

 

Banana comes by. Kite adores her dog. It follows him around and Spinner feels dizzy watching. He’s so sweet. His hands look so soft despite all that hard work. She wants them through her hair and on her back. She wants their fingers laced together. Her dear friend, smiling knowingly, smack her on the elbow.

“You’re a dork,” Banana says, folding her arms and looking out at the delta of the lake. Kite is preparing the equipment. 

“Shut up…” Spinner looks at her feet, shame overtaking her.

“I don’t blame you, Spin. He’s _ gorgeous. _ ”

Spinner’s mouth opens, soundless, and her brows raise.

“My god, I’m not gonna  _ steal  _ him from you!” Banana giggles and sticks out her tongue. “He’s too old for you anyway. Isn’t he like...thirty?”

“He’s not that old. He won’t tell me. I think it’s because his hair is white.” But she did the math based on the stories he told. Twenty-six or twenty-seven. “He’s self-conscious.”

“You’re smitten.” Banana pats her on the back and grins, showing her teeth, and then trudges off toward the lake. “But I won’t say a word!”

She doesn’t have to. It’s all plain as day.


	2. Knee-Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They begin their work to preserve the swans' habitat. Mishaps and tension ensue.

Even before they waded into the water, he was up to his knees. His feet are heavier here, in this little city. Like he can’t leave, even though he hasn’t tried. He’ll leave, but he’ll take her with him. He’ll carry the best part of this place by his side.

Kite can’t figure out what it is, that warmth he feels. She’s young, she’s smart. There’s a nurturing instinct. He wants to pat her head and teach her everything he knows. But he knows things so lurid, too. He’s sure she knows nothing. She doesn’t know what it means to stare at him, to sigh at the sight of him. He’s got too much of an ego to say anything. Too much pride to deny her outright.

And he can’t figure out what he feels. There’s a comfort between them, at night, across that wide, musty room. They sleep far away but he can feel her, breathing evenly, squirming in her dreams. He knows he must be in them, or she wouldn’t turn her eyes to the ground each time he says something sweet and kind. And he does it too often, like he’s toying with her. Stringing her along like that. She wouldn’t turn beet red when they touched on accident. An accident, he’s always claiming, even when he steadies her up the rickety stairs with a hand on her back. It’s never on purpose, that warmth in his chest. Kite avoids it like sickness. Attraction has always been a fleeting, one-night thing.

But she’s young, and she’s sweet, and he cares too much, too quickly.

He pulls on the rubbery pants they’re going to wear to clean up the lake and he feels already like he’s drowning in them. So wide and heavy on his thin form, but on her it’s even sillier. He dwarves her always, by at least a foot, and she trudges into the lake in a manner least graceful. But he watches. Too far away to take her hand, to needlessly guide her into a lake she knows like the back of her hand.

The dog barks on the shore, like they’re drowning, but Banana calms it. She, too, has such potential. But she doesn’t look at him the same. She’s the kind of smart that Spinner isn’t. She knows better than to like him that way, than to fall for his accidental wiles and his boyish charm. But Spinner, foolish girl...but he’s a foolish man, too. He’s an outright idiot. Inviting her along on his travels, what is he thinking? It’ll only get worse. She’ll only pine.

But, he justifies it. She has such promise for a future. It’s not as if he’ll settle down with anyone else and break her heart.

They work for a few hours, barely speaking, pausing only to coo at and pet the swans. They tilt their heads into Kite’s chest and he runs a hand down the neck, knowing she looks on, knowing she bites her lip. But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

“She likes you,” Banana says, taking the waterproof camera out of her pocket to take a photo. Kite nearly trips.

“Hm?”

Spinner, clearly mortified, stabs her spear into some garbage idling at the bottom of the lake.

“Th-the swan, Kite. All animals seem to like you.” The pallor of Banana’s face is staggering then. 

He softens, patting it’s elegant bill.

“Hunters are all well-liked by animals, Banana.” His eyes focus, unfocus, landing on Spinner, now turned away in embarrassment, no doubt. One of the swans is watching her work. The girl seems to be flocked to, like he once was. Even the mice in her loft seem fond of her, though she chases them off. The geese who won’t dare encroach the swans’ territory follow her like goslings to a mother. Kite, some human animal, drawn to her by instinct. Flinching at the popping of her gum, spooked like a horse. He’s so, so tall…

It starts to rain, and heavily.

“We should head back inside,” Kite advises, squinting out to the endless clouds in the distance. “Or you’ll both get sick.” Wading in waters no doubt rife with bacteria only swans can survive. Spinner nods, bidding the birds goodbye, and Banana is already working her way toward her dog, waiting impatiently on the shore.

“Shit--” He’s so unused to hearing Spinner curse, he turns his head around to see, hair getting wet, whipping around him. It seeps through his shirt, the rain. It covers her and her hair turns a darker pink. Her skin glistens. “My feet are stuck…”

The lake’s bottom is thick, mud mixed with sand. A deathtrap, he should have known. She squirms, like she does in her bed at night, twisting to try and free herself.

“Don’t struggle, Spin.” His own feet are free, so he carefully approaches. “You’ll dig yourself deeper in.” He places a hand on his hip, looking down into the splattering water, rain coating him, making him chilled. “Take off the fishing pants.” He’s started to shout some, over the sound of the increasing rain.

“What?” She’s panicking, he can tell, slowly sinking. He leans forward, a hand on her shoulder, his mouth closer to her ear.

“Take off the pants! I’ll help you.”

Kite realizes too late his fumbling. She’ll faint, he’s sure. So arrogant he is, to know that he must make her swoon. 

“O-okay--” 

He watches, as if only out of concern, as she slips out of the suspenders that keep the pants hoisted. They fall from her shoulders with the simplest of shrugs. Like a flower wilting in the elements, she looks. His lips, wet, part to see her fear. He’s so used to brave Spinner, stoic Spinner, laughing, happy Spinner. His chest aches to see her scared.

“Hold onto me,” he instructs, shouting still, guiding her arms around his neck. “I’m gonna pull you up.” He’s thankful for the cold of the downpour, thankful it might mask the heat in his cheeks. He’s a fool and a pervert, he tells himself, wrapping arms around this girl, feeling her pressed to him. Even if he has to, even if it’s to save her from sinking, from staying in a lake for hours until she catches her death.

But it feels a bit like an excuse, the danger. Just a reason to feel the weight of her. It’s too tenderly that he places his hands on her back and pulls her from the trap. How her ankles must so gracefully bend, how her little feet must slip through the water like minnows... How her arms tighten around his neck and he can feel her shiver.

“It’s okay…” He can’t know if she shakes from cold, from fear, from want. He trembles too, and he tries not to ask himself why. Once she’s lifted far enough he slips an arm beneath her knees to carry her away, out of the lake. Like a bride.

Kite keeps his countenance flat, his eyes fixed on the shore. Banana is under the awning of the nearby building, clutching her chest in worry, but looking somewhat relieved. He’s heard her giggle. She must be having a field day with this sight.

 

“She should undress and get in a blanket,” he says once he’s laid Spinner down on the wooden floor. Cold, she looks. Sick and weak. Or catatonic from his embrace. “I’ll...let you handle that.” He gives Banana a defeated look as he makes his way toward the furnace to start the fire.

“It’s okay, Spin, you’re okay…” He listens as they two friends softly speak. He catches pieces of it, muted by the roar of the fire. . _..saved me….you should have seen how worried he was!...hurry up, ‘Nana, I’m naked…Oh, like you don’t want him to look... _

The three of them sit in front of the fire for a spell. Banana and her dog both yawn and decide to head home.

“Be safe. It’s dark out,” Kite warns. She smiles and rolls her eyes.

“You worry too much. You don’t always have to be a knight in shining armor, Mr. Kite.”

He doesn’t correct her. He says nothing. He waits to hear the door squeak shut.

They are both silent for a few moments. Spinner curls the blanket tighter around herself.

“...are you feeling okay?” he asks, trying not to look, trying not to seem so worried, so caring. He’s already done enough…

“Just got the sniffles. Thank you…”

“If I had a jenny for every time you thank me…”

“You’d get rich, Kite.” She’s smiling, at least, and turning her gaze to him. “I owe you even more, now…” She inhales somewhat sharply, as if struck with an idea. He grows afraid, waiting to see that blanket fall from her, waiting for her to pounce. Poor girl, how she sullies herself-- “I want to come with you.” She says it with such finality, such confidence. She keeps the woolen blanket wrapped tight.

“For my research group?”

“Yes. And to...to get stronger. I can’t very well become a hunter if I get scared by a little bit of mud.” She pouts. He hates that. He _ adores _ it.

“It takes a while to become brave. And sometimes you get so brave you become stupid.”

She snorts at that. He’s told her so many stories of him escaping death by the skin of his teeth. He’s barely escaping this. It’s not her fault. She’s not some wiley woman seeking to seduce him. She’s just sweet, and brilliant, and she clung so tightly to him as he dragged her from the lake-- He’ll remember that feeling like a phantom limb, he knows. Her body, soaked, pert and soft against his chest as he lifted her. It’s there, beneath that old blanket. It must itch and scratch.

“Can you carry me to bed, Kite?” Her voice is so small then, like a mouse. “I can walk, I just…” She tucks her chin into her bent knees. “Can you carry me?”

He shouldn’t. It’ll just drag her deeper. He’ll just think of how she’s all skin under there, and he’ll lay awake all night with the temptation to saunter across the room, to crawl inside the blanket. That, or she’ll come to him. She’ll beg and mewl, and praise his help, his touch-- _ Thank you, Kite-- _

“Sure.” He answers before he decides, and already he’s standing, squatting, looping his arms beneath that blanket to scoop her up.  _ You don’t have to be a knight in shining armor. _ ..He doesn’t. But he always ends up being that way. For Spinner, at least. He lays her down like he’s going to bed her, and his brow twitches in concern. At least when they travel they won’t be alone. There’s no room in his life for this…

She’s fast asleep by the time he tears himself away from her bedside. He’s not sure how long he lingered, but any time is far too long when you’re trying to ignore someone else’s feelings.

“Goodnight, Spin.” From across the room he says it, raspy for the cold they’re both catching. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe myself for having written a romantic scene in the pouring rain who tf am I Nicholas Sparks


	3. Learning to Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group begins their first assignment.

They travel by caravan, all squished in hip-to-hip. She’s in the front. The most dangerous seat, right in the middle. Between Kite, driving, and Banana, asleep. She always falls asleep when Spinner needs her the most. Like now, watching him focus, watching him try not to get distracted by the miles of farmland and the fields full of animals. The high trees and the endless wilderness.

She wishes he’d look at her like he looks at the world. He’s seen so much of it, she knows, but still he admires nature as a wonder in and of itself. Maybe it is the same, with her. Maybe he tries to focus on everything else. She’s the horizon that puts a sparkle in his eye. 

She lets herself believe such crazy things.

She hears a chorus of snoring from the back seats, and turns her head, neck bared for him to see, should he want to. Unmarred and skinny. Everyone is dozing, calmed by the steady road and his safe driving. Now’s her chance, but she knows not what for. There is some precocious and sloppily seductive part of her that wants to lay a hand on his thigh. That wants to tell him in a deep, low voice,  _ we’re kind of alone now. _ But she doesn’t. She chokes on that bravery. 

“Take a nap, if you want,” Kite suggests, eyeing the clock. “We won’t arrive for a few more hours, and then we’re gonna have to set up camp.” Her curiosity piqued. How many tents? How close together? 

“Oh, um…” She gauges her sleepiness, blinking, feeling how dry her eyes are. But she doesn’t yawn. She doesn’t drift. But now’s her chance. “Yeah. W...wake me up if you need company.” And, mustering all her girlish courage, she lays her pink head upon his sturdy shoulder. She waits to feel him twitch or shrink from her, waits to be scolded  _ Spin, we can’t do this _ . In a way she wants to hear it. She wants him to admit it. Even if it’ll never happen, she wants to know he’s thought about it. _ I can’t be with you, sweetheart. Maybe just one kiss _ .

But he says nothing, and he moves not. Just lowers the radio for its static and distraction. She doesn’t sleep.

 

The only tent Spinner’s ever pitched was an ancient sheet over some stick when she was small. It fell down on top her her and Banana in the middle of the night, much to their fearful shrieking. But she has that yearning to be taught. For him to guide her hands to drive stakes into the ground. She watches him hammer them in with the grip of a knife. With each strike she flinches, with each strike her knees buckle just so. He concentrates, he pounds. He can be so rough....

“Banana,” he calls to her. Spinner frowns, hating herself for it. She ought not to be jealous when he spares the least bit of attention to someone else. She wants to be his favorite. She wants to be the one he calls to. “Get started on the fire, the sun’s gonna set before we know it.”

The girl grins, handing off her puppy and setting down her backpack. Spinner’s lips part as Banana smiles at her, like she wants to speak. Like she wants to say she’s sorry for being so selfish and mean. But she’s off, collecting wood, collecting stones to form a makeshift pit.

“Spin.” His voice is serious, then. Like she’ll be punished.  _ God,  _ to be taught so many lessons… “You hungry?” He’s crouched down by the tent stakes still, grinning up at her so sweetly, so honest. 

“I could eat…” She places hands on her soft, flat belly. She wants to show him the shoddily-done piercing on her navel, the elastic of her underwear. She wants to show him. “Where did you pack the food--”

He stands, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking his head.

“We’re saving that for the hike tomorrow. Today I’m gonna teach you how to fish.” 

The color must have left her face, for he suddenly looks so panicked.

“--if you want.”

“Yes, I do...want.” She gulps. His hands firmly holding that old wood, his arms bending to reel one in. She’s got a hook in her mouth. She chases his lure like some stupid trout. “Thank you, Kite.”

He admonishes her with a friendly glace, looking half-disappointed, half-adoring. She laughs and shakes her head, an apology, silent for her shame. 

“Then come on, Spin.” He beckons her. She follows. She’ll always stumble after him. As they amble toward the nearby stream she catches Banana’s eyes. The color has drained from her, too, but she grins, winking. Spinner scowls at her, cheeks warm and fists balled.

 

“If you’re going to be a hunter, or at least one that’s anything like me, you’re gonna have to learn how to find your own food sometimes.”

“Who says I wanna be like you, hm?” She’s braver when they’re alone, braver when they’re sitting side by side in the grass. She can tease, like he does. She’ll prove it to him.

“We already match.” He tips his hat and she pouts. “And fine, I dunno what you’ll end up doing. But I still just...want to teach you.”

They look at one another. A naked sort of glance, and she wishes so that she knew what he was trying to say to her. She hopes, dearly, in her fragile young heart, that they’re both saying the same thing.

He shows her how, first. He catches one little fish and deposits it in the basket. One more, two more. He’s going to feed the whole crew. His fingers pull that line back in with such dexterity, she cannot look away. They’ve been on her, a few times. Just shoulders, just her spine. She wants them to press between her ribs. She wants them to scratch at back and close around her pretty neck. Wants them to pet, and pinch, and--

“Spin--?” He’s leaning toward her, waving a hand in front of her face.

“Sorry!” she squeaks, hands upon her face. “I always-- I’m sorry…” She always goes into a trance when she’s near him. It must be so damn obvious. But she feels a palm pressed to her temple, feels those dear fingers on her wrist.

“Feeling alright?” He checks her pulse. It must be fast, it must be erratic, but he lets go, seeming satisfied.

“Just...kind of weak.” It is hardly a lie. She’s just so dizzy with his voice.

“We were sitting for a long time in the car. Best to move around a bit.” He groans softly, rising to his feet, offering a hand for her to take. She pulls herself up, and it goes by way, way too fast. 

 

They eat the fish he caught, all of them around the fire. She watched Kite gut them and felt her insides spill to hear him grunt like that, even if it was gross. 

“Everyone get a good night’s rest,” he insists, politely covering his mouth. It’s a wonder to her he’s not more of a sloppy animal, considering. How funny, to be so sweet when you grew up just like her. Is she sweet? Is she charming? Does he notice the little things she does and swoon? “We have to reach the top of the mountain by tomorrow night, or we’ll miss the event.”

Fireflies, all lining the limestone. A strange instinct, they have, and they do it once a year, on the full moon. It’s their job to figure out why. Kite likes larger animals, usually. He’s wrestled bears into liking him. But it endears him to her all the more, that he’s willing to study something so delicate, so pure.

He studies her. He looks at her and she’s so bare, so easy to figure out. 

They slowly disperse, everyone going off to their tents, their sleeping bags, their rolled-up packs for pillows. But he stays. So she stays.

“Not tired?” she asks, pulling her knees up to her chest, daring to coquettishly tilt her head at him. He shakes his head no, staring into the fire. “Me neither.” That, however,  _ is  _ a lie. Her lids are heavy and her throat stifles so many yawns. But she’s starting to give up trying to pretend. It’s pointless, and she’s just too tired. “M’sorry I couldn’t learn how to fish today.”

He shrugs.

“I’ll catch them for you, Spin. For now.”

She could just  _ die _ . 

“You’re...a really sweet man, Kite.” She sees his throat dip, sees him gulp and falter. She’s won something then, she feels.

“...I don’t wanna know who was so mean to you that you like me that much.” 

For someone so confident, so strong, he always talks about himself like he’s no good at all. 

“Nobody. I haven’t known enough people.” 

“Hm…” He breathes out a little laugh. “Then I guess I should just accept the compliment.” He’s so humble. But she’s seen him fight. She’s seen him fend off bandits creeping into her hometown. He didn’t even draw a weapon or summon his  _ hatsu _ . He was so unafraid. He was so calm, his face emotionless. It makes it so much harder to see him smile without wilting to the ground.

She’s acutely aware of their proximity. Just a small patch of dirt that keeps their hands apart. She might have used all her bravery on the caravan rid, because she feels too frozen and scared to reach for his long fingers. She might cry out to touch them. She’s flooded with things to say. Unprompted, but gathering mold in her head with how often she repeats them. _ I’m more mature than you think. Do you think I’m pretty? My hands, look, they’re so cold. I’m a virgin, you know.  _ It’s all so stupid. He’s not dumb enough to fall into her lap just for that. He doesn’t want anyone. He’d never settle down.

“I’m gonna be strong like you. And sweet like you.” 

He’s quiet a moment, staring voids into the fire.

“You’re already sweeter than me, Spin.”

Her exhale is sharp and suffocating. Long fingers around her throat. She goes into that trance again, until she feels the brim of her had pulled down over her eyes, and she laughs.

“Go to bed!” he encourages, mussing her hair. 

“I put my sleeping bag next to yours--” She blurts it out in a panic.

“Hm?” He turns to her as he stands. “Okay.” He shrugs, like it means nothing.  _ God _ , he must know how much it means. They’ve slept so far away for so long. “I mean, technically we’ve been sleeping next to each other for weeks now!” His face is obscured in shadow. She cannot tell if he grins or blushes.

She stays by the fire a little longer. It’ll go out on its own. When finally she makes her way into the tent she sees him asleep, so long of limb it’s a wonder he fits. It woos her, to be so little beside him. 

She’ll have her same dreams again, and she’ll wake up in a fit, beside him. He’ll know how she’s soaked between the legs and how her heart pounds. But she’s far too sleepy for shame. She’d far too enamored to stop it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling sort of bad about my fic-writing skills the past few days so I hope this is Actually Good.


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